Within These White Walls
by akahey
Summary: These chains that continuously bind me they have left distinct marks on me, cutting into my flesh and bounding my soul to this earthly place. It is this sinful and distraught place that is more hell than anywhere else, this land we call Earth.
1. Chain One

**shortie: Ah, I have started a new story when I haven't finished the others yet. *sweatdrops* heh. Well, the idea for this story was rather hard to ignore, so I just had to put it down in writing. Not only that, but I also wanted to try writing a different sort of theme.  
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**I rated it M just to be safe (for later on). Let's also hope that Irie's written correctly, though he's not named in here.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn! Just the OC.**

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**(ONE) Introduction**

"A-A-A-Asagi-san, w-wh-what are you doing here?"

The young woman lazily lifted her gaze from the paper in her hand and to the redheaded owner of the room she currently occupied. He lightly blushed under her unblinking stare, steeling himself against her stiff indifference.

"The door was open," she answered simply, placing the paper back on the desk where she found it along with the other assortments of items.

He inhaled deeply, walking over to the desk----_his_ desk----she sat at, her chin propped up on a hand, looking as bored as usual. "It's rude to just waltz right in here without permission," he huffed.

However, she did not react. Instead, she merely blinked up at him, causing him to get even angrier. He let out a giant breath, groaning. She had only been here for less than a year and she was already at the top of his list of people he extremely disliked and did not want to face. Any situation with her was more than enough to cause him to mentally break down; he was surprised it hadn't happened yet.

"J-just leave please."

Surprising him, she obeyed, pushing back the chair to straighten up. Then she quietly made her way towards the exit, heels clicking, not even throwing him one last look before leaving him to the (finally) private sanctity of his quarters. He heavily sighed, feeling a large weight lifted off his shoulders and the cloud of negative emotions dissipating. Unfortunately, it left behind a headache that he could have done without. So rubbing his forehead to ease the pain, he sauntered over to the vacant chair and plopped himself down in it, hunching over the desk with his head in his hands.

Why did the Black Spell had to be so aggravating?


	2. Chain Two

**shortie: Sorry if Irie's (a bit) OOC in here.**

**What Asagi's getting at is that she doesn't have the same feelings about fighting and killing as the rest of the Black Spell. She basically has no love for it, which was what Irie assumed the opposite of.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own KHR, unfortunately. Just my OC (whom apparently likes to invade Irie's privacy).**

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**(TWO) Love**

It was just another day at the Millefiore Japanese branch. It was just another stressful situation with _her_, but this time it was different.

Like usual, she was seated at _his _desk in _his _chair reading _his _papers. Did she enjoy going through other people's stuff, invading their privacy? She probably did, seeing as he always nearly found her browsing through his things whenever he returned to his room. He even complained about it to Byakuran a few times before when she pushed him to his limits. However, the white haired boss of the Millefiore Family only laughed it off, telling him that Asagi wasn't a people person.

Irie had scoffed at that excuse, more irritated than he previously was, but he didn't question it further, ending the communication line. Though, he had a suspicious thought that she was solely recruited to torment him----one which Byakuran never seemed to deny.

Anyway, she was currently situated in his sleeping quarters, at his desk, when he stepped inside. Immediately, he let out a huff of breath in annoyance, something he did without thinking nowadays, and stomped over to her. He grabbed ahold of the back of the swiveling chair and turned it to face him. This aggressive action of his mildly shocked her into giving him her full attention, face void of any emotions.

"Don't you have anything better to do than to go through my things?" he demanded, cheeks flushed red in anger.

She watched the emotion flit through his eyes behind his glasses with a directness that made him faintly tremble, his body turning too warm in the pure white coat he wore over his casual attire. No matter how upset he got because of her, he would still falter under her intense scrutiny.

"What else can I do here?" she inquired in that cool, bland voice of hers after four long and agonizing moments of trepidation (on Irie's account) had passed.

His face turned sour, lips pulled tightly into a thin line, brows furrowed together. She just loved to pushed his buttons, didn't she?

"_Something else_," he hissed. "Anything besides bothering me and invading my privacy. W-why don't you go bother the other White Spell members o-or go beat up on some unsuspecting person with the Black Spell?"

In one quick, swooping movement, she abruptly stood up, sending both the chair and the redhead stumbling----squeaking, in the chair's case----away from her. Irie was suddenly instilled with tremendous fear, heart pounding rapidly in his chest. The fiery passion that suddenly burned in her one visible eye raged with an anger that made his stomach churn with pain. It was incredibly unusual to see her so---so _alive_, and if he was an observer instead of the one who the anger was directed to, he would have----well, he wouldn't know exactly what he would have done except briskly walk away and hope to God that he wouldn't get caught in the line of fire. However, he _was_ the one her anger was directed to, and the only thing he cared about at that moment was that she didn't kill him.

"Don't you dare crowd me with those fools," she spat out through her clenched teeth, light glinting dangerously off her rectangular glasses as she slowly walked towards him. "Just because I'm an assassin and a member of the Black Spell doesn't necessarily mean I pathetically enjoy every kill, every thrust of pain, every shrill scream, every spill of blood, every fight."

Irie was quickly backed into a wall, and there was no more room left between the two of them. Asagi leaned forward, lips brushing against his ear, making him blush cherry red, and harshly whispered, "Don't assume you know me because of the way I act or because of my occupation. You know _nothing_, just like every-fucking-one else here."

With that, she stalked out of the room, hair whipping behind her, heels clicking loudly on the floor. Irie felt his knees gave way, and he crumpled to the ground, his back against the wall, arms resting on his raised knees. To say he was in complete shock was an understatement; there were no words eloquent enough to say just how troubled he was. He didn't move from the spot, not even when the two Cervellos came to check up on him three-and-a-half hours later.


	3. Chain Three

**shortie: It's extremely short: 110 words. But these _are_ drabbles.**

**Before I forget, these prompts are from a challenge from LUNAESCENCE (along with two others: "Color Me Crazy" (is another challenge response) and "The Word on the Street" (is another but I've tweaked it to where I'm no longer following the rules. heh.). I'm doing them here because luna's not allowing new registrations. *sniff*) (I really wanted to get that off my chest because if I didn't, then I would have gone on feeling like I was going to get sued or something bad like that. O____o)**

**(I think my rant is longer than the drabble. *sweatdrops*)**

**Light = white  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own KHR, obviously. Just my OC.**

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**(THREE) Light**

She hated the white uniforms of the White Spell. She hated the white walls, whose blankness rivaled hers. She hated every single aspect in, around, and concerning the Millefiore base that was white. It irked her that they were so pure and light and colorless. There was nothing interesting about that color, but it was Byakuran whom loved it. Actually, it wasn't even a color. Wasn't it a tint, a bland and empty shade where no color had touched it yet?

White was easily ruined and dirtied. Stains could be made without much difficulty, and they would be next to impossible to get rid of, if they were left alone.


	4. Chain Three Point One

**shortie: Yeah, this one's short, too. -___-U  
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**Light = pure/good  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own KHR. Just Asagi and her cynical self.**

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**(THREE-POINT-ONE)**

There was no such thing as "good" in the world, not when there existed tremendous amounts of evil.

Those naïve, goody two-shoes were people with romantic dreams of world peace and childish thoughts of love and hope. Asagi loathed them. She saw them as weak and breakable and blind, for those who knew nothing of pain and suffering knew nothing about reality. They lived in a separate part of the world----their happy little world with butterflies and sunshine and rainbows----and only knew of the things they bothered to learn. And along with them they carried hope, a useless thing.

There was no hope.

Hope was a sightless belief, a fool's bet, a simple-minded wish. If there was such a thing as "hope," then surely there was good, too. Those people believed so. Those people thought so, but they merely knew the illusions the world had cast upon them. Other than that, they could not see past the colored lenses that clouded over their eyes and through to the truth and reality of life.

Purity was easy to taint, less than difficult to steal away, and it was incredibly hard to piece back. (Asagi couldn't be more disgusted with the thought.)


	5. Chain Four

**shortie: dark = black**

**Disclaimer: Don't sue: I don't own KHR. Just Asagi.  
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**(FOUR) Dark**

She hated the black uniforms of the Black Spell. She hated the vacant darkness of the cavernous halls, of the windowless rooms. She didn't hate the blackness as much as the whiteness, but that didn't mean she liked it any better. There was nothing interesting about it, not even as a color. It wasn't even truly a color; it was a shade, the darkest of the dark, which could easily be meddled with if a speck of light was added.

Black was black. There was nothing more to it, and there was nothing less of it. It was an endless expanse of nothing yet something, always existing where things were.


	6. Chain Four Point One

**shortie: dark = evil/sin**

**Disclaimer: I no own KHR, just OC.**

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**(FOUR-POINT-ONE) Dark**

The world was a dark and sinful place. (It still is.) It twisted words, images, and minds, plaguing every single pure thought with its deadly poison. No one was utterly safe from it. No one could escape from its tight grasp, wisps of ghostly and gnarled fingers curling around each person, damning them to the depths of the shadows of life where they would suffer its wrath----for all eternity.

There were those who denied its claim on them, running away from it, holding onto and praying for some nonexistence ray of light that someone or something would come valiantly swooping down between them and the world. But Asagi doubted a simple, goodhearted human being could fight or even stand up in opposition towards something that had no physical body. There was no way to defend oneself against such a thing----not unless that person emotionally cut himself off----for the world was nothing but a malevolent apparition that lurked and observed everyone from the sidelines of their lives, waiting patiently to pounce.

Those who craved a way out of the darkness, those who sought freedom, were idiots. Though they weren't as terrible as the ones who tightly grasped onto blind hope and even blinder faith, they were still as bad.


	7. Chain Five

**shortie: This occurs a day or two after "Love."**

**Disclaimer: I don't own KHR. Just Asagi.**

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**(FIVE) Silence**

Irie found it quite unusual to return to an empty, silent room. There was no squeaking of the chair at the desk. There were no shuffling of papers. The mess of papers and books littered on the floor and the surface of the desk were still there. They weren't stacked in neat piles, arranged alphabetically or numerically, the way Asagi usually did when she went through his stuff. Of course, she never touched a single thread of his bed, which tended to be the tidiest thing in his room.

He stepped inside, feeling a bit strange to not be greeted by the sight of Asagi in the desk chair, reading pieces of his work and research. At least, she never asked him about them but she did once comment on how tedious his daily life was. The atmosphere was definitely different, but he shrugged it off as he unbuckled the White Spell coat and slipped it off, draping it over the vacant chair. He plopped down onto his bed, face first, wrinkling the sheets with the added pressure. A sigh escaped from his lips, his muscles aching with weariness. The comforting softness of the linen sheets urged him towards sleep, and the soothing silence in the room lulled him into unconsciousness.

Without having to deal with Asagi and her irritating presence enabled him to sleep contently.


	8. Chain Six

**shortie: AH! It's been so long since I've updated! So sorry guys!! DX**

**Well, here's the next installment.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own KHR or Byakuran's creepy evilness. Just Asagi.**

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**(SIX) Food**

The computer gave a _beep_, the black screen blinking to life. The moving image of the white haired Millefiore Family boss appeared, the eerily cheery smile on his face as usual. However, his violet eyes glinted in surprise to find the occupant of the room actually _in_ the room.

"What an unusually pleasant surprise," he cried incredulously.

Asagi was lying on her bed, blank eyes glued to the too pure white ceiling. She made no indication that she heard what he said. Instead, she continued on staring herself blind at the hideously bland ceiling. If she spoke, she knew what would come out of her mouth wouldn't be anything nice. However, that had never stopped her before.

But this was Byakuran, and Byakuran was a sinister fellow. She didn't want to cross him and die a slow, painful, and messy death.

"You're usually not here at this hour when I come check up on you."

She blinked as though she was responding.

"Did Shou-chan kick you out?"

He seemed to be almost too gleeful at that thought. She could hear the sneer in his voice, light and subtle, causing her to grit her teeth.

"No," she grounded out, much harsher than she'd intended to. The grin on Byakuran's face stretched even further, delighted that he had managed to make her angry.

"No?" he cooed.

Turning her head to the side to look at him, long side bangs falling over her face, which revealed the lightness of her left eye, she calmly stated, "He offended me. I left and haven't returned."

He gave a chuckle. "He offended you? Shou-chan did?" he questioned in an amused voice, a hint of incredulity laced in his tone.

She only stared hard at him with her slightly mismatched eyes, watching him play with the minute marshmallows in his hand. However, he wasn't directly paying attention to her, not even when he asked how the redhead managed upset her. Her silence did not make his amusement falter. Instead, it confirmed his thoughts of that his precious friend had treaded on dangerous ground by commenting on something the girl was adverse to. There were many things, but the ones Irie would have only known about were her habits and fighting techniques. So, it most likely had something to do with her label as an assassin and being a part of the Black Spell.

The grin on his face stretched further, straining his flesh across the underlying surface of bone. He popped one of the marshmallows into his mouth, bright eyes squinting at the girl through the computer screen. She didn't bat an eyelash at the intense and uneasy look he gave her.

"Did you need something or are you just simply going to continue to bother me with your eating habits?"

He really did make an excellent when he decided to take her in: It would be more than fun to break her when the time came. Just thinking about it made him shiver in excitement.

"No, I just wanted to check up on you," he practically cooed, unaffected by her rude bluntness.

With a blink of her eyes in his direction, she turned back to the dull ceiling.


	9. Chain Seven

**(SEVEN) Solitude**

Asagi was seated at _her_ desk in _her _chair reading _her_ papers in _her_ room. And it was aggravating. There were practically no sounds, just complete and irritating silence. There was nothing interesting to read from the papers in front of her, not that Irie's were any better, all compiled with complicated formulas and scientific terms and such. (She'd only read them because she liked how neat his handwriting was.) She had half expected the redhead to trudge through the door, forgetting that he had no reason to do so and that she wasn't in _his_ room.

A sigh escaped from her as she leaned back into the chair, closing her eyes in boredom. Without invading Irie's privacy sure made the days tick by slowly, and it made her feel guilty, almost urging her to go apologize. However, she managed to correct her thoughts by reminding herself that it was him who had started it. (Though, it was mainly her fault since she was the fuse that sparked it in the first place.)

Speaking of ticking by slowly, the clock in her room was unusually loud today. Its hands dragged around the numbered surface, making sure to stop every single centimeter, clicking in that obnoxious way that made her want to rip it off the wall and destroy it to pieces. Heck, she would even endure the white-haired devil's unhealthy eating habits and sweeten, sugar-coated words just to do _something_.

Why did the day have to stretch on forever and ever?

(It was probably telling her something. Like to apologize to Irie. Or to get a hobby.)

She leaned further back, making the chair creak under her weight, and roughly placed her legs up on the table, crossing them at the ankles, papers fluttering in response.

If she was back _there_, she wouldn't be like this, bored to death. Actually, she would have been annoyed to death because of Chimamire's constant jabbering.

That thought almost brought a smile to her face.

He had basically glued himself to her the moment she had stepped foot in the manor and never seemed to know when to leave her alone. "Privacy" wasn't a part of his dictionary, and maybe that's where she picked up the rather rude habit. He had followed her like a puppy----yet, not so innocent and much more like a crazed stalker----that whole first year. She had to literally kick him out, throwing a fury of crude punches and ending up with a few bruises and broken fingers (while he mainly suffered from light bruises). Yet, as the years gradually went by, she only had to steep to threats to have him leave, which he always did with a knowing smile. (He had told her she was getting soft, and he had to lived with three broken ribs for four-and-a-half long months.)

A smirk graced her lips as she reminisced, the slightly upturned corners hinting at a lingering sadness.


	10. Chain Seven Point One

**shortie: Sorry about the long wait. It was difficult to finish writing up this chapter. Well, that and I had other things to do.  
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**(SEVEN-POINT-ONE) Solitude**

Although it was very nice to return to his room void of any presence for the very first time in a year, he found it oddly peculiar to continue to do so. Each day when he would enter his room, he half expected to see her lazily hunched over his desk, flipping through the pages of his neatly organized reports. There were none of the usual sounds: no squeaks from the chair, no fluttering of the turning of papers, no light breathing from the nonexistent person sitting at the desk. Nothing. It was as silent as the dead, and for some strange reason it bothered him.

Wait. It bothered him that Asagi wasn't there?

Since when did he become attached her?

Since when did he started _caring_?

Pulling at his hair in aggravation----she still managed to stress him out even when she _wasn't_ here----he collapsed onto his bed with a huff.

Maybe because he was so used to entering his room at this hour to only find her looking through his papers. After all, she'd done it for nearly a whole year, and during that year, she's never once failed to break the routine. Unless, of course, she was out on a mission. However, even then, she would usually return to her daily life at the Melone Base as though she never left. Compared to now, it was different, because it had been a few days since their little dispute and she hadn't returned to his room. Not even once.

Groaning, he seriously thought he was really hung over something that had never mattered in the first place. It _didn't_ matter. (But he couldn't get rid of that nagging and rather empty feeling.)


	11. Chain Eight

**shortie: This isn't their first meeting, FYI.

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**(EIGHT) horror**

He remembered the very first time Asagi was in his room. Actually, he didn't _see_ or even _know_ it was her until the next day when he caught her in the middle of tidying up his messy desk. That was a rather awkward moment, but he had freaked out tremendously mainly because she was ruining the "order" of his papers by organizing them _her_ way. However, she cleared things up by explaining how she organized them, which he was taken aback about, feeling rather stupid and embarrassed about the whole situation.

So, back to the very first time she was in his room.

He had woken up quite late---_hours_, really, due to some late-night work----and left his quarters in a mess as usual: papers covered every centimeter of the floor; books piled up in random areas, some closed, some opened; pens, pencils, and erasers were scattered here and there; the desk was overcrowded with stacks of music discs. The only untouched and neat thing in the room was his bed, which he didn't sleep in at all, apparently.

All day he was gone, busy tinkering with whatever project he was focused on currently and shooing the Cervello twins (were they even related?) out of the laboratory. He worked best when people weren't bothering him with such trivial things, and he didn't need to be babysat. He could have worked through the night, but there was something he forgot to grab on his way out in the morning. Not only that, he also needed to eat----no matter how much he wished he didn't require any sort of substance to keep him diligently functioning from day to day.

As was per usual, he was escorted by the two Cervellos to his room as he was informed of what the white-haired boss wanted him to do and whatnot. However, when the door mechanically slid open, he stopped in his steps, utterly shocked at the sight that greeted him. For the longest time ever, his room was finally spotless and he could actually see the floor. Unfortunately, his emotions quickly turned to complete horror once he realized how neat and nicely stacked his books and papers and CDs were. Surprising his female companions, he rushed over to his desk, grabbed a hold of a small stack of papers and flipped through them with wide eyes, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, letting them fall from his hands in panic

Whoever had cleaned his room messed up the organization of his papers.

So, with a heavy and broken heart, he stayed up the entire night reorganizing them, barely catching a wink or two of sleep.

But his work was all for naught, for the very next day when he returned to his room, the newcomer, Byakuran's stray as most of them referred to her as, was there. And she was touching the papers he spent his sleepless night trying to organize them as he originally had them. He was incredibly upset, but she didn't seem too fazed by his mood. Even more so, she clarified the process of how she arranged them, calming him down. Then he realized that her way was definitely better and smarter than his. He flushed darkly in embarrassment.

After that day, he always found her in his room at that particular hour, reading the papers she previously categorized.


	12. Chain Nine

**(NINE) dreams**

She was dreaming; she knew this. However, she didn't want to wake up from it, to have to face the fact that reality was a nightmare to her. So, she contently slept on and on and on.

It was warm here and so full of light. She could feel the sun on her face, the wind blowing through the tendrils of her hair. Opening her eyes, she saw how the sky seemed to stretch forever and ever, so vast and so incredibly blue. She was in a meadow, she noted.

How cliché of her dream.

But she didn't mind it; it was better than the Melone Base any day. (But the base had Irie and her dream didn't seem to have drawn him out of thin air (as she looked around for any sign of his presence). Besides, why in the world would she _want_ to dream about him?)

Someone was calling for her. That snapped her out of her thoughts. Who was it?

Someone was calling her name.

"Ren-chan."

It came like a whisper on a gentle summer breeze but sounded loudly like a distant shout.

Asagi tried to look for the person who kept calling out for her. She had to squint her eyes against the brightness of the day, which didn't work so well since she only had one good eye to work with. She wished it wasn't so bright. Then again, she wouldn't want it to be dark, either: She was practically blind under the cover of darkness.

Who was it? Who was calling for her?

There, in the distance was the blurred form of a woman. Within two blinks, she was already managed to reach Asagi.

"Ren-chan," she repeated, smiling happily at the young woman before her. Tears were in her glittering eyes, which were the loveliest shade of brown, familiar eyes which Asagi hadn't seen in the longest time. Now that she was seeing them again----that she was seeing _her_ again----she wanted to cry, too.

"Kaa-san."

Asagi wished the dream would never end and that reality would never come, but she was a fool, a fool for thinking like that. Those sort of people she despised and mocked. Those sort of people she admired and wanted to be like.

(Why was her mother here and not there?)

(Why was Irie there and not here?)


	13. Chain Ten

**shortie: Asagi's first name is Reitetsu, meaning _cool-headedness. _****Asagi means eith****er ****_light blue_ or _light yellow_****. But let's go with _light blue_.**

******This is just background on her. It's important.**  


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(TEN) childhood**

Her childhood was horrible.

There was nothing good about it, and nothing good came from it. As a child, she couldn't understand why others would say that _theirs_ were _boring_ and that they wished it was more fun and lively. From her standpoint, they had it good.

They had loving parents.

Friends.

Laughter.

Plenty of fun.

Joy.

Everything hers lacked.

But one thing she wouldn't change about her childhood was her loving and adoring mother. She was the only one in her life whom she loved with her whole heart. Without her, Asagi would have died, figuratively. Without dear Asagi, her mother (Itsuko) would have perished, figuratively and literally.

In the Asagi household, things weren't as they appeared to be. The father had violent tendencies and was an angry alcoholic. His word was law, and if he was disobeyed, he viciously punished the sinner accordingly. The mother was timid and submissive, hiding her scars and injuries behind layers of clothes. No harsh words came from her lips; she wouldn't dare. The child knew what was happening but couldn't understand the reasons _why_. She was always kept out of _his_ sight for fear that she would be harmed, too.

The neighbors were suspicious of the ongoing activities in their house but never initiated a search to find out the truth. They saw but didn't see. They heard but didn't listen. They suspected but didn't know.

No one at school knew anything. The kids thought Asagi was weird for not speaking much, for not laughing and playing with them. The teachers were worried and had a habit for phoning home to inform her parents about her antisocial self. Her mother desperately tried to dismiss it from their minds, already concerned about her well-being. Her father snapped at them and told them to mind their own business. They eventually stopped caring and left her alone.

There was so much for her to say, and yet, she couldn't say anything. She feared her father and didn't want her mother to hurt anymore. So, she kept silent and said nothing.

But still, kaa-san would get beaten and bruised.

Little Asagi wondered why no one could help save her mother----especially when she herself couldn't----when kaa-san was in so much pain and agony each day that her father drank, each day he came home from work upset, each day he was unfulfilled. Whenever that happened, before it could happen, she was kept shut in her room, away from the sights and the sounds and the suffering. But it always hurt when she saw the blood, the wounds, the mess, and the condition her mother was in. It had hurt so much, so badly.

"Reitetsu. Ren-chan," came her soft voice, continuously the same after a noisy and one-sided dispute with tou-san.

The child slid open the door, letting her mother in.

"Ren-chan."

She would be embraced, and within that close proximity, she could smell apple blossoms, the fresh scent of medicinal alcohol (which burned her nostrils), new bandages, and herbs mixed in with a bit of faint metal copper.

"Don't worry; I won't let him hurt you."

Her mother always said that while stroking her hair.

"I won't let him touch you."

It was repeated like a mantra, something to enable kaa-san to resume living life as though nothing was the matter, to resume living for Asagi's sake. If something happened to her, kaa-san wouldn't know what to do: She was her whole life, her only child. Asagi just wanted her mother safe, away from this hellhole of a home, away from the devil of a husband her father was.


	14. Chain Eleven

**shortie: This occurs when she's six, during mid-summer. Festivals = magic C:**

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(ELEVEN) magic**

Kaa-san had dressed Asagi in a pretty and colorful yukata adorned with stars. Her _geta_**[1]**were secured on her tiny feet. Kaa-san even wore one, though it was rather plain: dark blue with geometric designs. However, it was the traditional color, and she was no longer a young woman. Tugging on Asagi's small hand, smiles exchanged, they head to the Tanabata festival in town. (They were lucky tou-san had fallen into a deep sleep after drinking himself out of alcohol.)

It was incredibly beautiful. Everything was lit up, drawing Asagi's attention. The air was a melting pot of mouthwatering smells, from _okonomiyaki _to _takoyaki _to _yakidango _to _yakisoba_. Over the loud chatter of excited people she could hear the plucked strings of a _shamisen_, of an alluring _koto_, of a _kokyu_; the whistling of a _hichiriki _and a _shakuhachi_. Together, they weaved a melodious harmony. The decorations were sewn and folded pieces of artwork, hung from bamboo branches located above walkways and streets, from the edges of the many stalls: _tanzaku_, _kamigoromo_, bright and vibrant _orizuru_, large _kinchaku,_ elaborate _toami_, intricate _kuzukago_, and many _fukinagashi_, which hung from decorated ornamental balls, flapping in the nonexistent breeze. **[2]**

She couldn't absorb it fast enough. She couldn't absorb enough of it.

Bouncing with pure delight and excitement, she turned to kaa-san with large eager eyes, inquiring where _she_ wanted to go. Kaa-san laughed good-naturedly at her daughter's question, telling her that she would go wherever she went. Squealing, Asagi dragged her by the hand towards the nearest stall, immediately wanting something to eat.

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**[1]** Yukata is just a kimono. The difference is that they're made of cotton and are unlined. Kimonos are made of silk. _Geta_ are sandals which have two support pieces beneath the base board. Like Jiraiya's (_Naruto_).

**[2]** _Okonomiyaki_ is a Japanese pancake containing a variety of ingredients. _Takoyaki_ is fried/baked octopus. _Yakidango_ is fried dumplings. _Yakisoba_ is fried noodles.

_Shamisen_ is a three-stringed instrument similar to the banjo. It's played with a pick, or plectrum, called _bachi_. _Koto_ is a thirteen-stringed instrument, which three finger picks are used to pluck it. _Kokyu_ is the only stringed instrument of Japan's which uses a bow. It's shape and size is similar to that of the _shamisen_. _Hichiriki_ is a double reed Japanese flute. _Shakuhachi_ is a vertical bamboo flute usually used for Zen meditation.

_Tanzaku_ are paper strips used to write wishes on and are tied to a bamboo tree. _Kamigoromo_ is a paper kimono. Meaning: "Wishes for good sewing. Wards off accidents and bad health." _Orizuru_ is a paper crane. Meaning: "family safety, health, and long life." _Kinchaku_ is a purse. Meaning: "good business." _Toami_ is a net. Meaning: "good fishing and harvests." _Kuzukago_ is a trash bag. Meaning: "cleanliness and unwastefulness." _Fukinagashi_ are streamers. Meaning: "The strings that Orihime uses to weave." (No, not Orihime from _BLEACH_.)


	15. Chain Twelve

**shortie: Takes place a day or two after "Food," Chain Six.**

**

* * *

(TWELVE) smile**

There was something about Byakuran's smile that creeped the hell out of her. No matter how kind and sweet and polite it seemed to be, there was always an edge of something more malicious hidden beneath the surface. She just didn't know what exactly, and she surely didn't _want_ to find out. Heck, she didn't want to know just how twisted and insane the guy really was: He was already frightening----and that was just a façade.

(Asagi wondered how Irie managed to put up with him, seeing as he was the white-haired demon's favorite person to tease.)

(She wondered if _she _was his second favorite and shuddered at the thought. Glancing over to the blank computer screen, a dubious expression on her face, she was greeted with her own reflection staring back. She gave a light scoff in relief: Byukuran having telepathic powers was quite far-fetched.)

(Or was it not?)


	16. Chain Twelve Point One

**(TWELVE-POINT-ONE) smile**

It was difficult to smile, at least for her it was. She never did understood why people would force themselves to smile in light of their suffering.

Was it because they didn't want their friends and family knowing something was wrong?

Whatever the reason was, she thought it was stupid of them to do something like that. What was so wrong with letting the emotions, good or bad, overtake you? If it was all bottled up inside with nowhere to escape, then the damage done would be tremendously worse.

Why smile for other people when the only person in the fucking world whom really mattered, whom you should smile for was yourself?

However, Chimamire, being the smart guy that he was, thought otherwise. Recalling his words, Asagi remembered it was something about depending on other people, too----whatever that meant. Well, he said a lot of stuff, and the majority of the time, she didn't listen because she just plain didn't care. It must have been the same for that situation, too.

Thinking about it now, she noticed that he generally had a smile on his face no matter what the circumstances were like. When she'd asked why (in an irritated tone), he replied back that he was hoping she would catch the "contagious" grin and smile throughout all the days, from now to the end of forever.

He was a bigger idiot than what she first thought, having such lighthearted things to think and say and feel. Besides, she didn't want to become like him.

(The only way she could ever truly smile was if she was truly happy.)


	17. Chain Thirteen

**shortie: stripes = Bel's shirt = Bel C:**

**

* * *

(THIRTEEN) stripes**

Breathing in the crisp warm air, she relished in the beautiful weather. She could taste the scent of the ocean on her tongue, despite the fact that she was nowhere near it. It would have been nice, especially on a day like this. However, she wasn't here to relax and vacation----no matter how much she wished that was the truth. It was a shame she had to waste this day with collecting information about her assigned task; she had presumed they would already _have_ the information they needed. (Wasn't Irie some sort of technical geek?) Unfortunately for her, they didn't, which meant the possibly that the target was of (extreme) high security.

Well, she always liked challenges.

The heels of her loafers _click_ed on the cobblestone street as she walked, her good (and uncovered) eye roaming around the scenery. She obviously stood out, her attire rather formal compared to those of the natives with their loose and comfortable clothes perfectly suited to the lovely weather. Even her jet-black hair was another indication that she wasn't from anywhere near around the area. However, they left her alone, unless they were trying to get her to buy some fruits or woven baskets or something, speaking animatedly in what she assumed was Italian. (She _was_ in Italy, after all.) Of course, she was also stalked earlier by a small crowd of men, whom she had spotted looking at her with interest. She managed to drive them away with a nice show of her Smith & Wesson 908S pistol, which she whipped out, with little to no hesitation, from its hiding place. They all immediately scattered, muttering probably something offensive about her in Italian. It wasn't like she was planning on shooting them until they understood that she didn't want to be followed or bothered; she wasn't as senseless as the other members of the Black Spell. (But she doubted they even _knew_ what the Black Spell was. If they did, then she was pretty much screwed.)

Pushing the rectangular glasses back up the bridge of her nose, she continued her trek, looking completely bored of the sights.

Eavesdropping was certainly difficult, especially when she didn't even understand a single word of the language being spoken. Byakuran should have sent someone else for the intelligence gathering and let her simply do the assassination; it would have been easier on both of them. He most likely sent her out overseas to have her quit moping around in her room like those depressed teenagers; he even said so himself when she questioned it. But she knew he had it wrong: She wasn't moping. Not at all.

There was a breathy laugh, sounding like the hissing of a snake. Turning, Asagi peered quizzically at the owner of the laugh. It was a guy----at least, she _thought_ it was a guy. He had a thick mat of blond hair, looking incredibly like a rat's nest with all of the directions each strand went, which covered his eyes, leaving only the giant toothy smile on his face visible. A tiara adorned his head. The outfit he had on nearly matched his companion's: The only difference was that while he wore a striped shirt, the other guy had a large hat----which seemed to resemble that of a _frog's_ head, complete with anime-styled eyes----on his head. His chin length hair was turquoise, matching his turquoise eyes. (Those two were early for Halloween.)

The blond was speaking, but the only thing Asagi managed to understand was the fact that he wasn't speaking _her_ language. His partner, expression blank, pointed that out to him.

"Bel-sempai, I don't think she understands," he said in perfect Japanese.

Dumbfounded, she exclaimed, "You speak Japanese?"

"Of course, we speak Japanese," laughed the guy named Bel. "We're speaking it right now, aren't we?"

"Then you should have done that in the first, Obvious-san."

A muscle in his cheek twitched. "Is that so? Well, a prince like me does whatever he feels like."

She scoffed in response, tilting her head. "Is that what the tiara's supposed to represent? I thought you were playing dress-up."

His laugh came out sounding angry and rough, the grin never once faltering. "Peasants like yourself wouldn't understand the ways of a prince."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that" was Asagi's retort as she turned to walk away.

Exasperated, he was about to throw his knives at her when his companion abruptly stopped him, forcibly pulling him away from her retreating form. This was why he never liked accompanying Bel anywhere.


	18. Chain Fourteen

**shortie: At least a day has passed since "Stripes" occurred. Unfortunately, this will be the last appearance of Bel and Fran.**

----

**(FOURTEEN) are you challenging me?**

There it was, that stupid breathy laugh again. She should have known that she would be seeing him again, but all things considered, like his strange and conspicuous outfit and hair, she had thought otherwise. Not to mention, the town she currently resided in was on the edge of a grander city. If she could, and if she had known she would see him once more, she would have wandered off into the city and maybe bought an Italian-English dictionary. Actually, that wouldn't have done her any good since she didn't know any English in the first place, which led to her pondering if there existed any Italian-Japanese dictionaries. (She wondered if Irie knew any Italian but then remembered that they weren't on friendly terms at the moment and threw that thought out.)

"Sorry, but I don't have time to join you for your tea party today, hime," she nonchalantly greeted the blond.

"The prince does not have tea parties, peasant" was his reply as he stuck his hands into his pockets.

"Oh?" She feigned interested, looking around, trying to pick up the difficult native language by ear in a poor attempt to eavesdrop. "Then what does someone like yourself do in your spare time, hime? Go around putting others into your slave trade and force them to wear hideous frog-like clothing?"

He didn't bat an eyelash. Not that anyone would notice.

His companion, the very same from the other day, thought she had a good point, and he subconsciously tugged at the hideous frog hat on his head.

"No," the blond laughed. "The prince prefers to play with knives, instead."

A sudden straight diagonal cut on her exposed cheek drew her attention to him, eyes slightly wide. He licked her blood off the knife he held, enjoying the coppery taste and her reaction. However, what he didn't expect was the change in her expression: She half smirked, half smiled. But that wouldn't throw him off his game.

"Is the peasant a masochist now?"

It was her turn to laugh, and suddenly, Froggy _badly_ wanted to be anywhere but there, knowing things were getting too complicated for his liking. Bel could always take care of himself.

"You've got it wrong, hime. I'm just intrigued that someone like yourself has time to play with knives, let alone wield them."

There was a sparkle in her visible eye, and the light reflecting off the glasses reinforced that. He supposed he would be having some fun today as his grin enlarged.

"Is that so?"

His other hand got ready to whip out the rest of his awaiting knives, fingers aching to touch the coolness of the metal.

Froggy slowly backed away, taking big steps.

Asagi merely stood there, blood dripping down her face from the fresh cut. She could use a warm-up, especially after being inactive for a while.


	19. Chain Fifteen

**shortie: I will jump around many times throughout the story to talk of the past. So, expect to be annoyed and confused when this happens.**

**Three new characters from Asagi's past are introduced here: Matsugiri, his unnamed worshiper, and Futeki. You've already heard of Chimamire; he was mentioned in chapter/chain seven, "Solitude."**

**It's implied that the food they ate weren't Japanese and were sweet and rather fattening. Asagi doesn't like sweets very much as a teen and adult. (It may have something to do with her mother.)**

----

**(FIFTEEN) starvation**

It was positively disgusting. The smell, the taste, the horrid sight. She wanted to puke, and if she really did, she would make sure the contents of her stomach would adorn Matsugiri and his expensive clothing. Of course, she knew that would greatly upset him because, well, they were expensive and her action would be extremely rude and uncalled for. Then again, he shouldn't expect Asagi to be quite as obedient as the girl whom hung off his arm, doing his bidding and addressing him as -sama and all with an innocent, cheery expression. (The girl was probably only in her late teens, early twenties, barely an adult.)

Speaking of her, she was currently trying to persuade the young assassin into eating with the rest of the household, those mental institution rejects Asagi liked to refer to as, even though she was one of them. Like always, she strongly refused, snarling that if she was to dine with everyone else, she would eat foods she actually liked.

Unfortunately, Matsugiri was a stubborn ass, and because he was the boss, he didn't care for anyone else's opinions and suggestions, leaving Asagi to _never_ eat a single meal at the dining hall with the rest of her housemates. She didn't care much for that; she didn't care much for anyone there to begin with----except for Chimamire and Futeki. The former, seeing that she wasn't eating, would usually go to the kitchen (the sole place in the whole house she was forbidden from entering) and fetch something edible and authentically Japanese for her.


	20. Chain Fifteen Point One

**shortie: Leonardo Lippi = Mukuro in disguise. (But Asagi doesn't know that.)**

**I didn't know----more like _couldn't remember_----how he acted as Leo. So, I pretty much made up his whole personality and attitude. ha, ha. ^__^;**

**So, Asagi won against the battle genius of the Varia. How? Without any bloodshed, of course!**

**After writing this chapter, I have come to realize just how mean Asagi really is.**

----

**(FIFTEEN-POINT-ONE) starvation**

Lightly pressing the handkerchief against the cut on her cheek, trying to soak up all the oozing blood, Asagi made her way to Byakuran's office. Her loafers thudded loudly in the vacant white hallway, the echoing sound her only companion. Even here, it felt like she never left the Melone Base in Japan, especially with the pure white-washed walls and floor.

The double doors ahead was his office. She waltzed right in without any announcement, without any preamble, surprising the dark haired man whom was inside, his voice trailing off. Byakuran sat at his desk, hand propped up against his cheek, and lazily let his eyes flit over to her. He gave a cheery smile in greeting.

"It looks like you ran into some trouble, Ren-chan."

She faintly flinched, eyes narrowing. "I encountered another insane person out on the streets; he engaged me into a fight."

"I assume you won" was his response.

"I assume you know where the infirmary is," she countered in the same tone he used.

He laughed, amused. Then he gestured to the man standing in front of him. "Leonardo Lippi can escort you there."

The guy blinked before complying with the command laced within the sentence. Asagi didn't care who took her there as long as she _arrived_ there. So, with a slight bow to the white haired boss, Leonardo lead her out of the room.

For some particular reason, during the walk to the infirmary, he kept glancing back at her through the corner of his eyes, not even trying to be discreet about it. The first few times she ignored it. However, the action continued, irritating her. When he did it for the sixth time, she snapped at him.

"It's just that you don't seem the sort of person to be following others," he nervously answered, looking at her with curious eyes. He continued upon seeing that she wasn't going to kill him any time soon. "I mean, you appear to be independent and bold. Why not follow yourself?"

The answer was obvious. At least, to her it was.

Did he really want an honest and open reply?

"What's it to you?" Her voice was a monotone.

He stopped, causing her to stop, attention fully focused on her. The emotion that swam in his eyes was undecipherable.

"I'm just curious."

She blinked. "I need to know where the infirmary is before the cut gets infected."

A breathy chuckle left his lips. "Sure."

As they resumed walking, he asked, "Did you really get into a fight while in town?"

"Are you certain you're not another insane person?"

She noticed there was an odd twinkle in his eye as he peered back at her. She saw his cheeks rise in the movement of a smile.

There was a nurse in the infirmary when they arrived. Her bubbly attitude made Asagi want to throttle her despite how much she couldn't stand killing with her bare hands. Instead, she settled for using a threatening tone to demand some ointment and bandages.

"Ah, you must be Reitetsu Asagi," she noted quite happily, slightly slurring her words with her Italian accent.

"And I don't care who you are."

She only giggled like a schoolgirl, cutely covering her mouth with a hand. "Byakuran-sama has informed me of your poor social skills."

Retrieving the ointment and bandages, Asagi exclaimed, "I don't have poor social skills: I'm merely selective when it comes to socializing. There's a big difference."

The nurse nodded her head as though she understood, still giggling.

Asagi rubbed the ointment over her cut and placed the bandage over it, throwing Leonardo a look when he silently offered to help.

"Can I kill her?" she inquired, twisting the top close on the tub of ointment.

The other two people in the room held surprised expressions. A chuckle emitting from the communication computer took them off guard.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't, Ren-chan," Byakuran playfully scolded, fingers playing with mini marshmallows. "Besides, I thought you hated the mess."

"I do, but I could always make an exception." Then she added. "I wouldn't be the one cleaning up, anyway."

She handed the ointment back to the nurse, who shakily took it, eyes wide with fear as they flickered from Asagi's emotionless face to the cream and back.

"Are you hungry? Let's dine together."

"You're already eating."

He grinned. "The marshmallows are snacks. Would you like to join us, Leo-kun? She won't kill you." His voice was as sweet as the white treats in his hand.

"If I may do so" came his reply.

"It's all Italian dishes," stated Asagi. She had barely touched the plate of cheese-filtered noodles in front of her, pushing it further and further away from her each time she looked at it.

Leonardo let out a laugh at her expense, reaching for the glass of water at his side. Byakuran looked at her apologetically.

"Sorry, but the chefs here don't know how to cook Japanese food."

Yeah, right.

"You should still eat, though," Leonardo urged.

Staring at him with blank, harden eyes, she said, "The cheese is fattening."

He let out another laugh, this one lasting longer. "I didn't know you were so sensitive about your weight."

However, he immediately stopped when he felt a wind breezed by him. Turning to look, he saw a metal fork embedded into the backboard of his chair, still ringing from the force of impact. Aghast, he glanced over to the young woman and saw that one of her forks was missing.

"I didn't promise that she wouldn't _try_ to kill you, however."


	21. Chain Sixteen

**shortie: This chapter isn't focused on Asagi! Instead, it's about her mother...and father.**

----

**(SIXTEEN) drowning**

Itsuko suffered on a daily basis, whether it was physical, mental, or emotional. However, it was to be expected when her husband was an abuser under the influence of alcohol, but even then, he didn't need to drink to harm her. He wasn't a violent person to begin with, and she couldn't see how he turned out to be so _different _when he came from such a respectable family.

She came from a not-so nice and broken family. Her father had abandoned her, her mother, and her sisters, leaving them to fend for themselves. When her mother went and found a new husband, she didn't know what to expect. Lots of bad things came to mind, but when they moved in with him, she found him to be warm and kind though gruff. He had lost his first wife in an auto accident, leaving him with three children to look after: two girls, one boy.

The girls, her stepsisters, liked how meek and shy she was. They often played with her, tricking her into doing things she would have never done. They teased and made fun of her, cutting her hair when it got too long and lovely for their jealous liking, smothering her with makeup that made her look like a fool, trimming the length of the skirt of her school uniform so it appeared to grow shorter with each day. Even her dear sisters played along.

Her mother was tired of her troublemaking and gave up trying to change her "rebellious" self.

Her stepfather was more understanding and tried to make the rest of the girls stop picking on her. Unfortunately, because he seemed to care more for her than he did about them, the treatment only got harsher.

Her stepbrother, Michio, was really the only one they truly obeyed. Since he was on her side, constantly protecting her, the girls wouldn't dare to touch her. So, they stopped and ended up ignoring her existence.

It was something Itsuko always dreamed of, a knight coming to her aid. However, things easily became complicated. He was family, excluding the fact that they had no blood ties to one another, and it was _wrong_ to feel the way she did. She just couldn't help it, though.

When he got a girlfriend, it hurt. When he married said girlfriend years later, it nearly killed her.

Then she met her husband.

He was cold to her, but she merely assumed he was shy.

He never smiled, but she thought he never had a reason to.

He didn't touch her in a loving way, not once, but she knew it was probably because he himself didn't like being touched.

Her assumptions were wrong.

Their marriage was an arranged one, lacking in love and so full of political benefits. Once they moved in together and were alone, it was anything but a fairytale. Itsuko learned that the hard way, but still, she pulled at straws and just _knew_ that there was something good in him.

When Michio and his wife couldn't conceive, one failing after another, she went to comfort him. She hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly, for that was all she was capable of. Unexpectedly, he drew back and told her to leave her husband, knowing of his treatment of her. She was more than surprised but promised to think on his words. When she arrived home, an angry and jealous husband awaited her.

She should have left, but there was no will, no strength for her to do so. However, Michio was more than willing to help, and with him in mind, she tried. Yet, weeks later, she found out she was pregnant. Torn between leaving and staying, between giving up the child and letting it live, she caved into the softness and sweetness her husband bestowed upon her upon learning of her pregnancy. Her stepbrother, on the other hand, wasn't quite so happy.

Nine months later and beautiful Reitetsu was born. Itsuko glowed with contentment for now she had the family she wanted. Unfortunately, she was rather disappointed that Michio never came to see her or her newborn.

He never came at all.

It was funny----in a strange and ironic way----how the cycled resumed after the baby's birth. He would never harm their child, just her. A boy, he wanted a boy next, and they roughly tried and failed. The blame was all on her, and she took every punishment he literally threw at her.

Her body was always broken and battered and bruised. No one cared now that Michio was no longer there for her. No one cared to begin with.

But she had Reitetsu and her sweet, gentle smile. For her, she would live. For her, she would try and stay afloat. For her, she wouldn't die.

(But the question was just how long would she survive?)


	22. Chain Seventeen

**shortie:  
**

**- Originally, I was going to have Asagi beat the crap out of Glo Xinia, but apparently, the idea morphed into something else.**

**- It's implied that they've encountered each other on more than one occasion before. Hence, why she can't stand him for very long.**

**- It's hinted at that she doesn't get along well with the rest of the members of her squad and the Black Spell altogether.**

**- Gamma and Glo Xinia may be OOC.**

Other than that, enjoy~

----

**(SEVENTEEN) breaking the rules**

Asagi never did manage to finish her mission. Actually, she didn't think there even _was_ one to begin with: Byakuran most likely made up that excuse simply to have her in Italy to spend some "quality time" with him. However, it was a nice break she managed to catch, being able to breathe fresh air each day instead of being shut up underground like a caged animal. (She never did encounter that Bel guy after their fight.)

Only after spending five days there, Byakuran decided to send her back to the Melone Base at the request of her squad captain, Gamma. She was told that he would be picking her up at the airport when she arrived in Japan.

The very first thing he did when he saw his subordinate was chuckle, surprise dancing in his eyes. She gave him a pointed look.

"You look nice" was his explanation.

Then he turned and started to walk away, Asagi right on his heels. They quickly returned to the underground base, using a long detour and then a hidden entrance. Once they were inside, Gamma informed her that he had called her back due to her lack of socializing with her squad, which was old news to her. Still, there was no way she could avoid it now since her captain had came to fetch her from the airport himself. Besides, she was no match for him in a fight.

They continued on.

There was a low laugh, echoing eerily in the empty hallway. However, Asagi knew who it belonged because it always sent goose bumps crawling up her skin whenever she heard it.

He leisurely approached the pair, seemingly bored. She let out an exasperated breath, not wanting to deal with him at the moment----or at all. Gamma, on the other hand, greeted him with a polite smile that was evidently forced.

"Hello, Reitetsu Asagi of the Black Spell 3rd Aphelandra Squad, rank A," he leered. Then he turned to the blond. "You must be the captain of her squad, Gamma. I am Glo Xinia, captain of the White Spell 8th Wisteria Squad."

"Ah, yes, I've heard about you from Asagi," commented Gamma. "She didn't say very fond things."

Glo Xinia's lips twitched. "She never has anything fond to say," he corrected.

That elicited a short laugh of agreement from the blond. The person in question said nothing and did nothing.

"Did you come here to welcome us back?"

"In a way, yes." Then to Asagi: "You've cut your hair. I'm quite flattered that you'd decided to do it after mine." He brushed a stray strand from his face as though to emphasize his statement.

She felt her jaw tightly clench, repulsed that he would make such an assumption. In fact, her new hairstyle looked _nothing_ like his: Even though her bangs were cut straight, they had a tendency to end in points whenever she moved, and the hair on the sides of her face were trimmed to her chin. If they stood side-by-side and their hair was compared, it would be more than obvious that hers _did not_ resemble his at all.

Gamma made no remark, already sensitive to his subordinate's overflowing aura of anger. If anything, he would let her handle the situation.

"I didn't know you were so fond of me," the perverted captain went on, "but I suppose your bad attitude was due to sexual frustration."

The smirk on his face grew.

It was positively aggravating, and she wanted nothing more than to tear him to pieces. But, alas, she couldn't simply break her unspoken rules of combat: 1) Not to engage in any unnecessary fights; and 2) Not to use hand-to-hand combat unless necessary. However, she had already broken the first (and second) rule while in Italy when dealing with that Bel guy. So, why not continue her hypocritical streak?

Before he could get another word out, she literally wiped the smirk off----with a balled fist. He stumbled backwards multiple steps, ending up falling flat on his back, blood streaming from his now broken nose. Gamma merely blinked in mild astonishment, gesturing for her to follow him. She wiped her hand on the unconscious Glo Xinia's attire, mentally muttering about germs and whatnot, before catching up with her superior.

"Do we have any hand sanitizer, Gamma?"


	23. Chain Eighteen

**shortie: Background info. It didn't turn out how I liked, but a rewrite wouldn't help, anyways.**

----

**(EIGHTEEN) eyes**

It was when Asagi was a kid, more or less eight years old.

There was nothing unusual or different about this particular day.

Her father came home from work late as usual, faintly smelling of expensive women's perfume and exquisite wine. He stomped towards the bedroom, flinging his clothes across the room as he undressed. Her mother was finishing up washing the dishes while Asagi colored at the _kotatsu_, wrapped in its thick blanket. **[1]** He had missed dinner again, but then he probably already ate.

When he exited the bedroom, he went straight to the living room, sitting down on the couch and turning on the television. Asagi shyly peered up from her work in the adjoining room to look at him for a quick moment before returning to her coloring. He called to her mother for some alcohol, not even bothering to turn his head to do so.

Her mother quickly made her way to where he was. "Reitetsu's in the other room," she whispered in alarm.

He only grunted in response, to which she softly huffed at, footsteps retreating back into the kitchen. She had gave in.

Not even thirty seconds later, she returned with empty hands. "There's no more."

Those words threw him into a sudden rage, voice roaring and growling. She visibly jumped in fright as he slammed the remote in his hand against the wall, shattering upon impact. The force left a hole in its wake.

Even Asagi had flinched at the abrupt change of demeanor, at the act of violence she heard more than saw. Her hand had gone astray, the line of color zigzagging out of the boundary. Curious and a bit scared, she gazed over to her parents. A strange and foreign feeling began to flutter about in her stomach, warning her of something dangerous to come.

Her father got up and angrily flipped the low table in front of him over, yelling insults and profanities. It toppled towards the other side of the room, hitting the wall. Her mother tried to calm him down, pleading with him. He only further destroyed everything in his sight, shattering every fragile item.

The noises were too loud for Asagi's ears, hurting them. She didn't know what to do in this sort of situation. She didn't know if she should leave or stay. She didn't know if she should try and stop her father in the midst of his temper tantrum. She didn't know if she should drag her mother away to safety.

Itsuko kept repeating her pleas and was soon sobbing and screaming. She held tightly onto his arm in order to stop him, but it only managed to outrage him more. He pried her hands from his limb and pushed her back. She hit the wall and lost her breath from the impact.

Asagi, in a moment of fear and worry, tore herself from the _kotatsu_, running over to her mother's side. She grasped the sleeve of her shirt, eliciting a surprised reaction from her.

"Kaa-san."

_No._

She had nearly forgotten that Asagi was there. The words to push the little girl towards the safety of the bedroom got stuck in her throat, and she ended up coughing instead.

Asagi looked from her to her father, eyes wide with unshed tears and concern. She shouted for him to stop in his path of destruction, but her voice was small and shrill, drowned out by the resounding _boom_s and _thud_s and clattering of broken objects. At once, she decided to approach him and noisily clattered over to him, watching her footing since the ground was littered with broken shards of glass and wood and plastic and wires and metal.

She was called back by her mother, but the cry was too strangled to be heard clearly.

It happened so fast, too quick for Asagi to even register what exactly was happening. Then, she found an unbearable pain throbbing in her left eye, a warm and sticky liquid oozing down her face.

Her father had thrown a lamp, the plug violently pulled out of its socket as it flew, shattering into pieces. The plug scratched the side of her face, barely touching her eyelid. When the lamp broke, some of the shards ricocheted back towards them, scraping them, one in particular found itself lounged in Asagi's eye.

The first thing she did was touch her face, inching up towards the wound. When her fingers lightly touched upon the shard, it sent a quake of pain through her.

The second thing she did was cry.

Her father was momentarily frozen with shock, but when she cried, it grated on his nerves, bringing back his forgotten anger.

Itsuko, immediately realizing the danger her daughter was in, roughly pulled the child away and into her arms. Clumsily getting to her feet, she ran to the front door, tugging Asagi along. Her free hand made quick work of the locks and slamming the door open, the two of them escaped into the freezing night, shivering at the extreme drop in temperature. Asagi stumbled over her own two feet, attempting to keep up, blood dripping onto the ground.

Her mother fervently pounded on the door of one of their neighbors, anxiety pumping through her veins.

----

**[1]** A _kotatsu_ is a low table frame covered by a blanket, which the table top sits on. Underneath is the heat source.


	24. Chain Eighteen Point One

**shortie: This chapter seen through Irie's POV had to be written because I felt like it was too long since he's been mentioned and he probably won't be mentioned in the next few chapters. Besides, I wanted him to see Asagi and her new haircut!**

**And it was a nice change of mood to write, also.  
**

----

**(EIGHTEEN-POINT-ONE) eyes**

Irie's sleep was interrupted by the arrival of the two Cervello women…again. For some reason, it had turned into a routine thing whenever he fell asleep in the room with the white vault. Of course, only they, besides him and maybe Byakuran, had the authority to access that room.

"What now?" he grumbled, still tired.

"Glo Xinia, the 8th----" began one of the identical women but was immediately cut off by Irie's sharp retort.

"I know who he is," he scowled darkly. "What about him?"

"He was found injured and unconscious in the middle of hallway D minutes ago," the other finished.

He heaved a breath. Why did he need to be informed of this? He didn't care that the guy was wounded. In fact, he was glad, but he wasn't going to tell them that. **[1]**

"Is that all?" He went to pick up his White Spell coat, slipping it on.

"Well, Gamma, the captain of the 3rd Aphelandra Squad, has requested permission to take his squad above ground for some sparring sessions."

"Why would he need permission----least of all, mine----to do that?" the redhead questioned.

"He didn't exactly say."

Mentally groaning, Irie walked out of the room, the two women following. He wondered why a captain would need another captain's permission to go outside. Since the 3rd Squad was of the Black Spell and _he _was of the White Spell, it was even stranger. However, he would find out when he confronted the guy.

"Where's his current location?"

When he received no answer, he turned to look at them with inquiring looks.

"Earlier, he had went to the airport to escort one of his subordinates back to the base."

"Other than that, we have no information if he's returned or not."

Seriously, why did the guy need his permission when he had already went outside of the base? And why wasn't he, Irie, informed that one of Gamma's subordinates had a mission overseas? He was in charge of the Melone Base, after all. However, this was the Black Spell he was talking about; they didn't care for the White Spell. **[2]**

Speaking of Gamma, he was walking along the hall which was connected to the one they were currently in.

"That's Captain Gamma," stated both women.

"Um, Captain Gamma," Irie called, slightly picking up the pace.

The tall blond halted, and so did his subordinate, whom the redhead didn't notice at first. But when the two of them both turned, he was stunned by _who_ the person with the blond was.

He felt his heart literally stop for one whole second, his breath completely taken away. Why didn't he realize who it was right away? Most likely because _she_ was practically changed. Or that it had been a long time since he's seen her. Or both. Her hair had been cut, most notably her bangs, because now he could see her face, her eyes, which were not of the same hue. Even her attire was different, though only slightly like the change in color and style and brand. However, he noticed that instead of loafers she had on high-heeled boots, which probably made a difference on how she walked and held herself.

Suddenly conscious of the fact that he was staring----and that _she_ was staring _back_----he averted his gaze over to her superior, a blush lightly coating his face.

"Uh, you were requesting permission to go above ground. May I ask why?"

It seemed that Gamma had just finally managed to make the connection. Giving a small smile, he replied, "Safety issues. Byakuran had told me not to go outside with Asagi unless I made sure the safety protocols were in place." **[3]**

"Safety protocols?…" Irie repeated in wonder.

Gamma shrugged. "I don't know what they are, either."

"Actually, they're just standard procedures to ensure that Asagi's safety is secured," one of the Cervello piped up.

"Standard procedures meaning her constant whereabouts and a silent alarm that'll go off should something happen to her," the other further explained.

"However, it's all installed in her Black Spell coat."

Everyone looked at Asagi, whom barely reacted to their unblinking gazes. She did not have on the aforementioned coat. In fact, none of them have never seen her wear it once.

"Fine, I'll wear the stupid thing," she sighed, brows furrowed in annoyance. "It's in my room."

----

**[1]** Irie seriously hates Glo Xinia. Did _you guys_ know that?? I found out when I was skimming and jumping around rereading the manga! **Chapter 161, pages 13-14.**

**[2]** Byakuran didn't tell Irie that he had flew Asagi over to Italy. ;D

**[3]** These safety protocols ensuring Asagi's safety is, more or less, Byakuran's leash for her, 'cus----you'll learn more about this later on----she had ran away from her previous "owner." That's why she's always talking about suffocating and being stuck underground; it's because Matsugiri, her previous "owner," is out there looking for her, so she can't go outside.


	25. Chain Nineteen

**(NINETEEN) expectations**

It was no secret that Asagi greatly disliked the Millefiore Family, which was fine, because they weren't exactly fond of her either.

Byakuran was the one who found her. He was the one who brought her into the family. If he didn't like her or find her interesting, he would have left her on her own. But that wasn't the case since he _didn't_ leave her. The true reasons why he took her in only he knew of, and no one really cared to know anything beyond the fact that they had to do no harm to her.

He was the only one she truly feared, the one she wouldn't dare to turn against, despite her antagonistic personality and independent attitude. However, that didn't stop him from experiencing verbal attacks from her sharp tongue. (Honestly, that was what he liked most about her.)

Irie didn't particularly like Asagi, but he didn't dislike her, either. Even though she was a member of the Black Spell and he the White Spell, he held no animosity for her. Unless, you count being continuously annoyed by her presence a form of animosity, then yes. In fact, he was rather torn (or clueless) as to how he felt towards the young woman.

She mainly kept to herself, speaking when it was permitted or when she had something to say. Of course, she had the bad habit of looking through his things, but he had no real personal possessions with him. Although she had lost her temper with him that one time, his irritation and anger had slowly faded, leaving him unable to sort out his feelings towards her.

Gamma, being her superior, the captain of her squad, often felt like he was babysitting her and Nosaru whenever he gathered squad together. It was quite frustrating, but at the same time, at least she was asserting herself in battle (with the younger guy) instead of standing around doing nothing like he had assumed she would when she was first assigned to him. Actually, he had thought that she was the stereotypical sweet and shy girl she looked like when Byakuran had suddenly appeared at the base with her. That presumption was quickly shattered upon her opening her mouth to tell off Glo Xinia. (Boy, was that the most amusing sight he, Gamma, ever saw!)

Speaking of Glo Xinia, it was evident that he harbored a special interest in Asagi. Unfortunately, she didn't feel the same way towards him, if her disgusted manner towards him was any indication. Even though he was of a superior rank and status, she had no care and treated him like she did everyone else but more harsher, seeing as he couldn't tell the difference between a refusal and acceptance. He must have thought it was code for "continue to pursue her; she secretly wants you." (He was lucky she was old enough to be considered as an adult.)

Nosaru, being younger than Asagi by a few years, immediately disliked her upon their first meeting. He had the tendency to say whatever he wanted or what he felt like saying to her without any consideration to how it would make her feel. She always retorted back, and it usually ended with a fight, which she somehow always won.

He saw her as someone who wasn't worthy, someone who was weak and pitiful, no matter how many times he got beat by her. She was a girl and would be a girl for the rest of her life, but he was a guy and he was guaranteed to be stronger than her when he aged. He would never see her as an equal or a comrade. To him, she was dirt----stubborn dirt that wouldn't stay where she belonged.

Tazaru felt the same way as Nosaru did, but because Asagi was important to the head of the Millefiore Family, he was tolerant of her. It was difficult to like her, to appreciate her, when she was favored by the white haired beast; thoughts of her being a spy often flitted through his mind. However, it was easy to see that wasn't the case, not when she held some respect for Gamma.

The two Cervello women had no opinion of her----except that she was too vulgar to be a young woman. They were turned off by her attitude and manners, but they didn't have to deal with her, so it was fine.


	26. Chain Twenty

**shortie: ...is it creepy and strange for me to say that this was an easy chapter to write?**

**- No, I don't know how long it takes for someone to die from blood loss. I just guessed.  
- Chimamire means _bloodstained_ or _bloody_.  
- Futeki means _daring; fearless; intrepid; bold; tough_.**

----

**(TWENTY) drive**

It was easy----almost too easy.

At least, that's how Chimamire made it look like.

He would always and most often start off by seducing his prey, the poor human being that was chosen to be his feast, no matter the gender. Though, he preferred those in their early to mid twenties, people who could actually give him a chase before dying by his hands. He didn't exactly hate dealing with people who were such easy catch, like young and pretty schoolgirls, but he would like a good struggle for life every now and then. It was rare for him to actually catch a teenager who was more than willing to fight him with every fiber of their being, but those times he loved and relished every moment.

It was like watching porn when Chimamire went to seduce whomever was his current victim. It was repulsing----especially with how erotic he touched his prey, hands gliding beneath their clothes and causing them to shiver in pleasure (no matter their sexual orientation because he just had that sort of effect on people), mouth at their neck, licking and sucking the flesh vivid red. Then, once he got them on a euphoric and sexual high, one of his hands making its way up their body, he would plunge it straight through their chest. (He liked to avoid killing them so fast if he could help it.)

Asagi used to flinch each time he did that, but now being so adjusted to his preferred killing style, she didn't even bat an eyelash as she watched on. (Though, she did wonder how he managed to never break a bone in his hand.) Her skin didn't crawl, either, when his prey let out a high and long bloodcurdling shriek, the red liquid he so craved spewing out in waves, splattering onto the cement ground at their feet. However, she was sure her eardrums would shatter.

It would take his prey five to ten minutes to die from blood loss. One-point-zero-five seconds, if he was bored, via breaking their neck.

Futeki, stalking out from the shadows where he watched the show with little interest, would usually reprimand the other male for making a mess, but no matter how many times he got scolded for that, Chimamire couldn't stop himself from continuously spilling the precious liquid he so desired to touch, taste, see, hear, and smell. However, that didn't necessarily mean he didn't have the ability to kill as cleanly as Futeki could; he could but he saw no fun or delight in that style. Hence, the reason why he liked to tease the older male about being such a killjoy.

Actually, scratch that: _Futeki_ was the one who made killing look so easy. Chimamire simply made it appear to be easy to lure people into a content state before offing them. He made murder look like something romantic.

Unlike the messy and bestial approach Chimamire took, Futeki's was one of quickness, silence, and neatness. He did no unnecessary things to prolong the life of whomever was the assigned kill, and he was articulate about his kills, changing his plans whenever something changed, and took no risks to endanger his life or the lives of his accompanying comrades. There was no joy in killing, no glee in fighting; he was almost always entirely coldhearted and expressionless. He only did what was required of him; no more, no less.

Needless to say, he was the exact opposite of Chimamire.

So was Asagi, because she seemed to have taken after him, Futeki, in terms of fighting and killing style and in her manners. She killed because she had to, not because she wanted to. To spill visible blood was something she was strongly adverse to, especially with what she had went through.


	27. Chain Twenty One

**shortie: Eh. I'm feeling crappy so this turned out rather crappy.**

----

**(TWENTY-ONE) blood**

Like any other sane person, Asagi never liked the sight of blood. (As a child, it freaked her out.) However, she had no issue dealing with it, and as long as she wasn't covered in it, it didn't bother her so much.

It took her quite a long time to get acquainted with the sight, the smell, the faint taste of it on her tongue, the touch.

When she was first brought to Matsugiri's manor and some of the other assassins were play-fighting----though the blood being spilled was definitely real----she reacted strongly to the splashing and splattering of the red liquid, losing her mind and tossing all sorts of objects out of her way as she ran from the scene. She was found puking out the whole of her stomach's contents, dry heaving when she emptied it.

It was worse when she was assigned to follow Chimamire as he went along on his killings. He liked to make a big show of things, and when it came to killing----oh!----he definitely loved a big show. Futeki always had to tag along in order to keep an eye on both her and the hemophilic guy, making sure things didn't get out of hand, especially when the latter was literally making a mess.

However, the more time she spent with Chimamire, the more tolerant of blood she became. Though, that didn't mean she didn't get sick of it first. With Futeki's help, she was able to slowly overcome whatever sort of feelings she had about blood.

Those two (and Matsugiri and his girl and the servants) were the only ones in the whole house who were either indifferent to or didn't like blood. The rest had a morbid fascination with it.


	28. Chain Twenty Two

**shortie: I had written this _before_ the previous chapter. So I guess, this one's less crappier than the other one.**

Reikkun is her dad's nickname for her.

----

**(TWENTY-TWO) seeing red**

Not even three months later did Asagi's father get out of rehab----rehab for some sort of anger management (because he couldn't be acquitted on domestic abuse due to the lack of solid evidence). Apparently, he was proclaimed as "cured," what with his rather speedy recovery and overemotional scenes of vulnerability. It was all a scam, Itsuko knew. Even Asagi's eight-year-old mind could comprehend that her father's recovery wasn't genuine, but in the furthest corners, she wished it was.

When he returned home----to the nice and neat and clean house Itsuko had to scrub and scrape and wash----they were both on edge and anxious. However, he greeted Itsuko with a kiss to the cheek and an "I miss you." To dear Asagi, he affectionately petted down her hair as she looked curiously up at him, a bandage covering her left eye.

Lightly running his thumb over the bandage, Itsuko looking on with a fearful expression, hand clutching at her chest, he softly breathed, "I'm so sorry, Reikkun. It doesn't hurt much, does it?"

She shook her head in response.

Her mother let out a breath of relief and stuttered out that dinner would be ready shortly.

It seemed as though things would change from that moment onward, but it was an uncertainty they would have to tackle.

Unfortunately, it was only when half a year had passed that he finally let up the too-convincing charade. Apparently, his temper had gotten the best of him, something he could never fully control.

It was a cold winter day. Snow fell from the sky, thickly coating the streets and the ground and every other surface. Asagi was too busy with staring at the wondrous scene outside, mesmerized by the fluffy white powder, hands pressed against the glass of the window, to see how the fight got started. (By this time of the year, she no longer needed a bandage or covering over her eye, but even though it was healed, she could barely see anything out of it.)

There was a loud crash from the kitchen, the shattering of dishes. Immediately catching her attention, she slowly unlatched herself from the window, twisting her body towards the kitchen, where yelling and screaming and more breaking of dishes could be heard. With each step, each time her bare feet touched the tatami mats, the fear in her heart grew.

Kaa-san.

What did she expect to see once she was in full view of the scene? A destroyed kitchen? Blood splattered all over the walls (because something deep inside her knew it was inevitable)?

She hoped it wasn't the latter.

…but she wasn't so lucky.

It was completely frightening to witness the unrestrained anger of her father, the limitless amount of strength he wielded. It froze her to her spot, eyes wide. She couldn't will her body to move, to turn away. All she could do was simply watch, watch as the horror scene continued to unfold, the most vivid color being that the red that now coated the whole of the floor of the room. The only sounds now were of her father trying to catch his breath, panting heavily.

He noticed her presence in the doorway, and sporting that fatherly smile of his, he crouched down to her level and cupped one side of her face with his soiled hand. The sticky substance stuck to her skin, feeling cool and rather disgusting and slimy.

"Everything is all right now, Reikkun. Everything's all right."


	29. Chain Twenty Three

**shortie: Hm. It's so much fun writing Chimamire and Futeki. :D I'm glad I get to write more of them later.**

Originally, I was going to write out a killing scene where they showed her how to kill, but it turned out like this. How strange.

----

**TWENTY-THREE**.**sport**

"Okay~!" clapped Chimamire too cheerfully for a murderer. "Killing 101 has begun! There is no required textbook for this particular class, but I have to advise you to take notes, whether physically or mentally, because we'll be covering a range of information here.

"First off, let's introduce ourselves: I'm more known by my nickname Chimamire. I'll be your instructor. What's your name?"

He gestured over to Futeki, who was smoking with a far-off look on his face.

"There's no smoking in class, Futeki!"

The aforementioned guy merely turned to give him a steeled stare, continuing to puff on the cigarette.

"One: We're out in the open. Two: This isn't a class. Three: You're a horrible teacher. Four: You've already said my name, so there's no point in introducing myself. Five: You're an idiot if you think you have the authority here."

His nonchalant reaction was utterly cool and calm, making the preteen girl gaze at him in admiration. If only she had that sort of coolness when speaking to people.

The "instructor" shrugged his shoulders and looked over to her. "And you are?"

She took a moment to ponder over whether or not she should give her name. However, it didn't matter since she doubted anyone would care to search for her.

"Asagi Reitetsu."

Futeki faintly tensed, eyes drawn over towards her, while Chimamire smiled brightly.

"Welcome, Rei-chan, to Killing 101. I know it'll take a while to get used to this class, but I promise you, it'll be fun."

She gave him a dubious look. He must have ignored it since he continued on just as happily.

"Now, there's an abundant amount of different ways and styles and methods to kill, some of them easy, others quite nasty. However, what we will deal here with before getting to the complicated stuff are the easy techniques. But before that, we will have to cover where the most----" He paused. "----crucial kill points are.

"Assistant Futeki! Where's the volunteer?"

Throwing the cigarette onto the ground and snubbing it out with the sole of his boot, he replied with, "I thought you had sedated and tied them up and left them somewhere out here."

Asagi blinked. Volunteers weren't usually tied up and drugged. The so-called instructor sure was a demented fellow. At least, the Futeki guy was there to keep an eye on things, and so, she knew she was pretty much safe----well, as safe as she could be with two killers, which she couldn't believe they actually were.

While Chimamire went to go fetch the volunteers----for what, though?----Asagi was left standing in the middle of the small clearing with Futeki, who's eyes kept boring into the side of her head. Annoyed, she blankly stared at him, and he kept eye contact for a few seconds before averting his gaze elsewhere.

Just what did he find so interesting about her?


	30. Chain Twenty Four

**(TWENTY-FOUR) drink**

The whole house stank of blood, so much that Futeki was able to fully taste it on his tongue through the air. Each room he went through so far, the heels of his boots thudding heavily against the bamboo flooring, was clean and had no indication of Chimamire's presence. However, that only meant he used one whole room for his artwork.

Groaning, Futeki swept a hand through his hair. The fingers at his side twitched, a sign that he was anxious for a shot of nicotine to soothe his nerves, and since he wasn't in the right place to smoke, he couldn't do so.

As he walked further into the house, the metallic smell grew stronger. Pushing open the door of a room, he was immediately attacked by the sudden burst of the coppery scent, which clogged his nostrils and filled his lungs. He made no reaction to it and only scanned the wet and vibrant room, Chimamire standing in the farthest corner admiring his handiwork with twinkling eyes. His whole form was splattered with blood, nicely matching the newly painted walls, the liquid still dripping down to the floor. In the center of the room was a neat stack of undecipherable items, but Futeki knew they were the torn limbs of the younger guy's victim. With that thought in mind, he didn't want to know what Chimamire did to the rest of the body and----knowing him----the organs.

He turned back around, not wanting to set foot into the hideously decorated room which fit Chimamire's tastes (literally). Besides, there was also the issue of the currently missing Asagi, but knowing her, especially since she still wasn't able to stomach the horrendous sights her companion loved to create, he would find her in either the nearest bathroom or the furthest.

Pausing for a moment, he intently listened to the stillness of the house before journeying to the bathroom on the second level. There, he found the dark haired girl hunched over the toilet bowl, emptying practically everything in her system. She was coughing as she reached to flush the toilet, bits of vomit dripping down her chin. He tore off some toilet paper and proceeded to wipe away at it. She was startled by his action, cheeks flushing pink, and quickly tried to regain her composure by snatching the soft tissue from his hand and doing it herself.

As she shakily got to her feet, peering at the mirror to see what exactly she was cleaning off of her face, he made his way back downstairs. He rounded into the kitchen, grabbed two glass cups and filled them with cold water at the sink. With them in hand, he returned to the bathroom, handing her one. She took it silently and used the water to rinse away whatever remains that were still left in her mouth. Then she drank the whole of the second, relishing in the fresh and crisp taste that flowed down her throat.


End file.
